When the cold front caught us unawares,
we were wearing t-shirts,
outsmarting puddles in the Supergarcia
parking lot, giggling
because we got out without the kids
for once, and in a hurry darted
into town for burgers. Wish
they had something to wear
over regular clothes to keep you warm,
you remarked, astutely,
and I, your genuine foil,
carried on to the glistening car, Wish
they made rain-shields-on-a-stick.
They could call it an umber-ella.
You: Because you can hide
umber it. Me: From the ella-ments.
I waited for the door to unlock,
yanking senselessly,
and looking up caught your wet
smile through the unseasonal frigid
drizzle.